


Desiderata

by Fulmine



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Brotherly Love, Character Development, Crack Relationships, Developing Relationship, First Love, Foe Yay, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Bonding, Male Friendship, Male Protagonist, Male Slash, Mild Language, Minor Character(s), No Sex, No Smut, Not a Crossover, One-Sided Relationship, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Please Don't Hate Me, Pre-Canon, Pre-Games, Pre-Series, Pre-War, Pre-X1, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Rare Ship, Rating May Change, Robots, Romance, Shipping, Slash, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, To Be Continued, To Be Edited, Uncommon Pairing, Uncommon Ship, WTF, War, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, What-If, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulmine/pseuds/Fulmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Definition of desiderata: things that are needed or wanted. Plural of desideratum. It was a word Sigma was very familiar with. There was much he and the world needed and wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

Purpose: something all humans sought.

 

Most humans ended up making their own purposes, basing it on what they felt, on chemical reactions. Humans often lived for excitement, did anything for an adrenaline rush while others sought out intellectual activities, anything to achieve tranquility. No matter the activities, though, their purposes relied on anything that increased pleasure.

 

Reploids didn't.

 

Reploids lived to serve humanity, created with actual, important purposes, not thrown into the world in momentary lust or “love.” Unlike reploids, humans didn't dwell on the ramifications of their actions. No, they happily lived their lives, unaware of any consequences.

 

Reploids didn't.

 

No, most reploids knew of their monumental importance and didn't carelessly create life. The desire to procreate, however, was a vestige of humanity’s animal lineage.

 

As a vestige, it had outlived its purpose like all their animal instincts.

 

Even as a newly created reploid, Sigma knew this well. Undoubtedly the rest of his kind did, too. They must've believed their creation wasn't for primitive, selfish goals, but crucial objectives mankind couldn't handle or comprehend.

 

Sigma’s creation, however, was more important.

 

He knew this as he laid there, not fully activated. Before he glanced at the world or moved, he knew of his greatness as the new leader of the Maverick Hunters, an organization set out to retire Mavericks. Maverick being a term for reploids who rebelled against humanity. All of this was already written into his programming, written into his data-banks. He was great; was built for greatness; would achieve greatness.

 

A soft-spoken, confident voice rang out throughout the room, bringing him out of his thoughts; it was the first sound he had ever heard.

 

“Dr. Cain, turn on the lights and activate everything. I think it's ready.”

 

Sigma opened his eyes. And there was light.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Months ago across the world, the Maverick Hunters and Sigma’s pronounced creation furnished much speculation, expectation, hope, and wonder. Months before his activation, people talked about him; mere ordinary people gossiped and news reporters prattled on about him, praising his concept, discussing what he would do regarding the current maverick issue and his advanced, unmatched combative capabilities. A reploid who'd save them all, they called him.

Despite how many gigabytes of information he had at his “birth”, it did not prepare Sigma for this.

How strange.

Sigma supposed humans behaved this way due to innate instincts, instincts created from evolutionary adaptations. He reasoned that because, to such fragile creatures, he was close to a messiah, a champion built to crush the so-called robotic devils ruining their lives. While Sigma disagreed with the numerous names he heard from news reporters on television within the first few minutes of his life, he understood humanity's logic. Murder was wrong and evil, thus, reploid murderers are wrong and evil. It was simple with a modicum of truth, Sigma had thought, and he couldn’t easily argue with it.

Its simplicity didn't ease his thoughts.

He wondered about human simplicity, wondered how they deemed mavericks evil menaces without contemplation, how they created condemnatory dictums. For Sigma, moral judgements presented numerous problems. To him, judging the morality of mavericks entailed long, arduous processes with too many variables to consider for him to brand someone as evil, as a menace to society. Sure, mavericks weren't great for society, noxious even, but someone noxious wasn't necessarily wicked, didn't deserve to be called a devil. In Sigma's mind, judging these situations required contemplation, required deliberate review, whereas humans didn’t. Did the reploid feel threatened? Perhaps he believed he was in danger. What if said reploid was defective? Perhaps a glitch existed in his system that his creator never noticed or bothered fixing. If so, wouldn't it be his creator’s fault and not the reploid's?

Humans didn’t question anything from what little he saw.

Sigma didn't understand.

It was strange.

Even stranger was the reploid with him.

His eyes darted to the enshrouded reploid typing away at the messy desk that contrasted the otherwise spotless lab. Despite the only notable light in the figure’s vicinity coming from the giant computer monitor’s faint, pulsing, green glow, Sigma saw what he looked like. At his activation minutes ago, he stayed, running various diagnostic scans, checking Sigma's condition constantly as he listened to the news reports blare across the room. Sigma didn't know his name, didn't believe his creator mentioned his name. Eyes unblinking and head tilted, Sigma watched him carry on his litany of business, his cares gone as a strange peace pervaded his spirit.

He was so strange.

Despite never seeing another reploid, Sigma knew it. For starters, he had short, black hair that pointed in every direction, a hairstyle odd for his trade. If Sigma had hair, he would keep it neat at all times, especially at his workplace. Another bizarre thing about him was his clothes. Blue jeans, a black shirt, and tennis shoes aren’t things he'd expect a lab assistant to wear. Didn't humans value professionalism and fashion precepts? Sigma thought they did; that's why he expected lab assistants to be dignified, not common-looking. If so, shouldn't this reploid want to prove his value? Prove that he would fulfill his designated purpose without issues?

Wouldn't a tidy appearance help accomplish that?

He didn’t doubt he was a reploid because of his giant hands and feet, an inhuman trait. Sigma stared at his own bulky, armored feet, silently comparing his to the lab assistant's as complete silence save for the quiet television reigned.

The assistant crouched down and waved his hand in Sigma's face, surveying him curiously. "Hello, Sigma! Anyone home?” Sigma jumped and flung a stare to the reploid. The other reploid chuckled as he lifted up his clipboard, checking his notes. “Now, I double checked everything.” Eyes still on it, he tapped the clipboard with his pen. “Everything seems to be in order. However, I-”

“Who are you?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. He winced, dreading the reploid’s response.

To his surprise, the reploid didn't seem to mind. If anything, he seemed delighted. "I'm X.”

A… letter? His name was a letter?

“X?” Sigma questioned his hearing as he stared at X, slack-jawed. “Your name is X?” He realized the irony of his question. Sure, Sigma’s name was a Greek letter, but humans had a habit of using Greek letters and symbols in mathematical and scientific subjects. It seemed strange to him for someone to be named X in an English-speaking country. Not to mention the fact that X's name took a letter to spell.

X nodded, pleased as he looked at the clipboard, turning one of its pages before jotting notes.

Silence endured and Sigma had no idea what to say. Sensing this, X smiled. “Come on, don't be that way. You want to ask me something? I'll do my best to answer, but if it's about your design, I can't help you much. Cain would know your design way better than me.”

Sigma studied him a moment longer, attention on nothing else. “Why is your name X?”

“X is the most common variable. My creator wanted a name that reflected my future and purpose. As a variable, it's unknown. In simpler math equations, X can represent any number.” Sigma blankly stared, not understand where he was going with this. Of course he understood all this. So where was X going…? X seemed to sense his confusion. “Since I wasn't made with a specific purpose in mind, my life can be anything I want, can represent anything, just like X,” he ended with a shrug.

Sigma stilled. Anything he wanted?

He gazed at the ceiling, almost as if their conversation was inconsequential. After a moment he looked back at Sigma, his once cheery expression blank. “It's what he wanted.” Sigma’s mind began to race so much that X swore he heard his processors buzzing. How? How could his creator want that? He had to have planned X’s creation. It wasn't like he was a baby, some product of a one-night stand, a mistake. No, X’s existence would've required months, if not years, of planning. So, why? More importantly, how was X accepting of this!? Didn't he worry about the future? Didn't he ever wonder if he was making the correct decision? That he had the correct objectives? That he had insufficient hardware for those objectives? Sigma didn't, but he was created with a distinct purpose. He didn't wonder about his life; he knew where he was headed unlike humans. X, though… X had nothing.

His stupefied horror must have been obvious for X shrugged again, a sheepish grin creeping on his round face. "Don't worry. I don't mind. Honestly, I prefer it this way.” X laughed, a sound which rung throughout the lab. “Anyway, I'm real sorry about Cain. He would’ve stayed, but he had an important call. He didn't want you to start the job immediately though. You should get used to Maverick Hunter Headquarters, first.” He offered Sigma his hand, and Sigma could feel his excitement, his joy. "Come on, I'll show you around.” When he continued staring at him, horrified, X’s grin faltered, and for Sigma, an intangible pall came into the room when X spoke. “Sigma, please don't be shy.”

Sigma shook his head, expression stoic. Taking X's hand and following him, he wondered how much stranger his day would get.

 


End file.
